Time for a Change
by Mary West
Summary: It's over 20 years since the Last Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione has just become the new Arithmancy Professor, and Severus thinks he owes her a large debt. From the SSHG Exchange on Live Journal. AU  Severus survived . Warning: Character Death
1. Chapter 1

The grey-flecked hair flopped forward as he leaned over her. Hermione, bent back in his arms in the traditional tango pose, blinked twice as the wizard, his long nose mere centimetres from hers, took the rose from between his yellowing teeth and murmured seductively "Let me treat you, my love, as you ought to be treated. Let me worship your body, delight your soul and overwhelm your senses. My heart shall be yours, if only..."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione Weasley, newest Hogwarts professor, felt quite strange catching the Hogwarts Express for the first time in exactly thirty years, but gratefully accepted Flitwick's offer of a shared compartment and a bit of company on the way. Rose and Hugo saw her off, and she'd sent her own house-elf Daisy on ahead to settle in with the rest of the staff, but with strict instructions that the too-willing helper was to continue having regular working hours, days off and wages.

Her trip with Flitwick was very enjoyable. They'd always respected each other, and now were firm friends. By the end of the journey Hermione found herself telling her old professor about the end of her marriage.

"It was nothing specific. It's not as if he ran off with Lavender or anything, although they certainly hooked up for a while once we were over."

"I had wondered." Filius steepled his fingers and looked thoughtfully at her. "Please don't think I'm criticising Mr Weasley, but I and a number of the others never really felt that the pair of you were truly suited to each other. Your minds worked so differently, and as your teachers we did know both of you quite well."

"And you were right". Hermione sighed and looked out the window as the September afternoon drew to a close. The Hogwarts Express clattered along the rails, its rhythm soothing her much-frayed nerves. "Our last argument sounded like something out of an old Muggle comedy, and I realised I could never be the stay-at-home housewife he wanted. The children were old enough to understand, so I moved out and kept working at the Ministry while I tried to get my head in order." She looked back at her travelling companion and smiled wistfully. "And hopefully now I've found my place. Going back to Hogwarts feels like coming home more than anywhere else ever has."

"Most of us are thrilled to pieces to have you back. And a cup of tea would be lovely." Flitwick smiled at the trolley lady, who had come past their compartment at just that moment.

* * *

><p>Hermione stepped off the Hogwarts Express and watched in silent amusement as Hagrid gathered up the latest crop of first years. Her mind flew back to her own student days, and those of her children, and she admonished herself as she felt a tear or two try to sneak out.<p>

"They get younger every year, don't they?"

The voice down beside her brought a smile to her face as her travelling companion joined her on the platform.

"That they do, Filius." Hermione looked over the first-years' heads, and noted that the older students seemed small as well. Hagrid caught her eye and waved, miming that he would catch up with her later, and she and Flitwick walked to the Thestral carriages where Headmistress McGonagall stood to greet them.

"Hermione! Lovely to see you. And thank you again for agreeing to join the staff."

Hermione laughed wryly at this. Since she'd walked out of her job at the Ministry of Magic four months ago, she'd discovered that the Muggle world had little by the way of employment for middle-aged women with no Muggle work history, unless she was willing to "flip burgers" or "cold call" for a living. The Wizarding World hadn't been much better, and she had started to think that a new career in Deep Fried Chicken might be her only option when an owl arrived from Hogwarts to offer her the position of Arithmancy professor on the retirement of Professor Vector.

Ten minutes later Minerva flung open the staffroom door and ushered Hermione inside. "Everyone, Hermione Weasley is here. Hermione, you will remember most of the teachers here I'm sure, and I'll introduce you around the rest."

Hermione found herself enveloped in an enormous hug by Neville Longbottom, who whispered in her ear "Hagrid says to come to afternoon tea tomorrow night. He's got the first years to wrangle" Hermione hadn't seen Neville in a few years, and was surprised by how much he had aged. She hoped she had not gone that grey.

Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey looked up from their game of chess to wave cheerily, and Professor Binns even floated up and proclaimed his pleasure at her return. Hermione was escorted to the chess board, where Professor Trelawney sat, watching avidly. The older woman stood and peered at Hermione, then broke into a huge smile and took her hand, looking over her intently. Hermione couldn't help noticing that the rest of the staffroom had fallen silent until Trelawney closed her eyes, paused a moment, then proclaimed "I foresee a year of challenges and masquerades that will end with a triumph!"

A collective exhaling of breath around the room was followed by the beginnings of chatter until a dark, cracked voice from beside the fireplace croaked "That has to be a record, Sibyll. The first time in forty-five years that you haven't foreseen a horrible doom. Something must be wrong."

Hermione turned towards the voice to see a tall dark figure with a shock of grey-white hair look her up and down, then dismissively turn back to the fire. Minerva gently steered her away, and sat her at the tea-table.

"Still as taciturn as ever?"

"Worse." Minerva passed over a plate of shortbread, and Hermione knew that Daisy was settling well in the kitchen with the rest of the elves. "It took three years for Severus to recover enough to leave St Mungo's, and he still doesn't know who saved him."

"And he's lived here ever since?"

"Yes. Although he's only ever felt strong enough to teach the last eight years or so, and that only for the most advanced students." Minerva sipped her tea and glanced back at the dark shape by the fire, then leaned towards Hermione and spoke in a low voice. "He seems to have some idea that _you_ were involved in saving his life after the Battle. I'm afraid he's rather bitter about it, but I only know because he let something slip a few years back."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she shook her head in disbelief. "I had no idea. I knew he'd been saved, but at the time we thought him dead, and we had to go and kill the Dark Lord. No, unless it's my _doppelganger,_ I don't know who saved him."

At that point a bell rang in the corner of the staffroom, and the teachers all put their cups down and stood, checking their robes as they did.

"No point meeting the new students with crumbs all over you", winked Aurora Sinistra. Hermione took the hint, and hurriedly brushed off a few stray crumbs before lining up with the other teachers, ready to walk out to the dining room for her first official Hogwarts dinner at the High Table.


	3. Chapter 3

The corridors of Hogwarts late that night were dark and cool as Professor Weasley silently strode along, alert for any signs of misbehaviour among the students. She'd already had to escort two unrepentant Ravenclaws out of the top corridor where they had been trying to re-summon the Room of Requirement, and she'd rescued a tiny Slytherin who was lost near the Senior bathroom. Houses might be more mixed than they had been in her day, but the student types were strangely familiar. One part of being a teacher had its rewards, though – she'd spotted Peeves a second before he attempted to throw a bladder of bubotuber pus at her, and he was now muttering very rude words about her from the bottom of a heavy chest where he could stay for a few hours.

She was about to turn back to her quarters when a low murmur nearby caught her ear. It sounded very much like people who didn't wan to be overheard, and she walked briskly around the corner with her wand raised.

To her surprise, instead of the expected Gryffindor miscreants (Seamus Finnigan having produced children with as mischievous a bent as himself), Neville and Severus Snape were standing in the doorway of the Potions classroom, bent over a small flask.

"Evening!"

The men looked up, and Neville took the flask and stashed it in his robes as he smiled at Hermione. "Rounds on your first night?"

"Minerva thought it would help me get back the feel of the place." She walked up as Neville passed a parchment sachet to Severus, who merely nodded at her as he took it then walked away into the classroom. Neville gestured towards the corridor behind them, and the two old friends started walking slowly.

"Shall we head back together, then? I'd forgotten to give him the dried aconite for tomorrow's fourth-year class." Neville rubbed his fingers together, unconsciously demonstrating the correct manner of reducing the powerful substance to powder. "How are you finding it here now, after so long?"

"Strange." Hermione walked slowly, keeping pace with Neville. "Have the corridors shrunk? I could swear the sconces were higher when we were students."

Neville laughed, the sound echoing gently along the corridor. "Not an inch, Hermione. I'm afraid we've grown. The seventh years look like children and I would never let _them_ fight in a major battle like we did." The two smiled and said nothing more until they reached the entrance to Neville's room, where he hugged her once then went in and shut the door behind him.

The walk and brief talk with Neville cheered Hermione up immeasurably, as she had been feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the job she had taken on. It also made her a little lonely. Neville, she knew, made a floo call every night to Hannah, and spend most weekends with his wife at the Leaky Cauldron. Although marriage with Ron had not been a marriage of minds, it had been at least somewhat physically satisfying, and she found herself still missing the warmth of another body in the bed beside her. There were of course ways to satisfy the sexual urges, but it was more the cuddling, someone to talk with, someone to snuggle up to that was missing. Hermione looked at her bed, turned down ready for the night, and sighed an unspecific sigh before turning in.

The next weeks were, upon looking back, one enormous blur of new faces and names and learning curves for both Hermione and her students. She had expected home-schooled wizards to have holes in their education, especially as basic Mathematics formed the foundation of Arithmancy, and it was an area many parents would prefer to avoid. However a number of muggle-born first years also lacked the rudimentary skills and knowledge. Thursday evenings became a remedial "Fundamentals" class for all comers, and while some of the other teachers raised eyebrows at this, two came up to her afterwards and asked for a private set of lessons as well.

It didn't take Hermione long to work out the basic student types in her classes. There was the class clown (not always a Weasley, and often a surprising Hufflepuff) and the struggler who wouldn't give up. In the second years a serious dark-haired boy reminded her very much of her own younger self, although she hadn't had the brooding attitude that young Ivan showed. He also looked quite familiar, and during the second week the mystery was solved. He came up to her at the end of the class as she was marking their homework, and brusquely muttered "Uncle Viktor says hello" before blushing and hurrying out. Hermione sat reminiscing for several minutes in a pleasant daze before Sir Nick dropped by to remind her that it was nearly dinner time.

She sat beside Minerva, who was praising the elves for managing to cook Brussels sprouts properly. "Fresh, green and best served with butter and black pepper", Minerva enthused, urging Hermione to a large helping. "And yes, Viktor's sister married an Irish wizard she met at that World Quidditch Cup you went to. Young Ivan is the best Seeker we've had since Lily Potter left – what _is_ your niece doing now?"

"Gone to Australia to a Muggle university and staying with my parents." Hermione bit cautiously into the sprout, deciding that although they _were_ edible, they still weren't to her taste.

"I meant to ask how your parents were", Minerva said, taking the last sprouts with a great deal of relish. "Obviously the warmer climate suits them, and despite all people say, it is a lovely country. I saw you had a parcel from them this morning."

"Not me, no. I owe them a letter, though."

"My apologies. I saw a Boobook deliver something and assumed it was for you." Minerva turned to Severus to ask something, and Hermione directed her attention back to her dinner.

Scurrying back to her room later to finish her letter, Hermione bumped into Snape, who was taking a rare turn at evening corridor duty. He nodded to her then turned and started to walk off, but she hurried up to him and caught his arm. Even bowed by pain as he was, he was still taller than her, and he looked down his nose at her with a certain disdain.

"Yes, Professor Weasley?"

She let go his arm as if it had burned her, and looked him straight in the eye. "You _really_ don't have to call me that."

The two stood, staring at each other, and she held herself firm and refused to be the first to back down.

"Did you want something, Professor Weasley?"

"It wasn't me."

"_What _wasn't you?"

"It wasn't me who saved you." She kept looking resolutely into his eyes, and suddenly felt herself trapped by his gaze. Memories flashed up – hitting Draco, robbing Gringotts, burying Dobby – but she held firm and let him continue to search through even the bitter and the horrid memories.

The dark professor scanned through her mind as if through a library, opening compartments containing trips to the zoo and skipping ropes and early crushes on pop stars, until he found the compartment labelled "Snape". Brutally, and with unrelenting aim, he sieved through the earlier memories of a young girl with an ego hurt by his deliberate ignoring of her hand, past the moments of noticing that something about him didn't add up and a small portion of admiration at his skills and knowledge in potions. Severus's instinct found the memories of that night in Hogwarts when Nagini attacked him mercilessly. He felt her shudders as she and the boys hid outside, hearing his body thud against the wall with each strike of the giant snake's jaws. And he saw her hand smoothing his hair as Harry took the tear with his memories.

And then … nothing. No more contact with him. No sneaking back, no secret antidote, no sign of any additional assistance. He checked the later memories, trying to ignore the sorrow and regret she had felt as she found out the truth behind his past, and some small acceptance of his history and motive. There was a wall around some of the memories, and he had to check those dark corners carefully, unearthing the more secret parts of her heart and mind. The kisses with Viktor behind the Owlery. The despair as Ron and Lavender first got together as students, and the surprise that she wasn't really fussed when the pair matched up again after the divorce. And a very deep-seated surprising regard for him that had its seeds back in her late student days and had grown since she started working with him. But no sign of her having been responsible for saving him.

Suddenly he broke through her most hidden pocket, and she was back at her last argument with Ron.

_She had been miserable, tired of making all the concessions, and Ron had been dismissive of her Muggle background. Finally, she stood screaming at him, the tears running down her face. _

_"You're just stupid!"_

_"I bloody well am not! I got bits of it right!"_

_"Ron, you're not even trying."_

_"That's not true. I read those books."_

_Hermione had picked them up, weighed them in her hands, then propelled each one at him as she enumerated his mistakes._

_"Ron – Little Women is not about a shrinking potion." *thump*_

_"It's not? Ow – that hurt."_

_"No. It's not. Of Mice and Men isn't about transfigurations gone wrong." *whack*_

_"Hey – stop that!" _

_"And Catch 22 and Catcher in the Rye are NOT ABOUT QUIDDITCH!"_

_Those two books broke as they hit Ron on the side of his head, and she had turned and walked out without looking back, Ron calling after her that he could change, really he could … _

The memory faded as Severus pulled out of her mind. Hermione staggered at the intensity of the emotions and almost fell, until Severus put his hand out to catch her arm and lead her into the Potions classroom beside them. There, he urged her to sit and brought her a goblet of a clear brown liquid. Fire burned down her throat, but the dizzy spell passed and she looked up at him, curious.

"A special potion?"

"Cognac."

She smiled in spite of herself. He would not look at her, but sat at his desk and shuffled his papers.

"I owe you an apology, Professor. I had no right to do that to you without your permission."

"Would you have believed me if you had just asked?"

Severus looked up, abashed. "No. I would always have been suspicious. But I think you could have blocked me then if you wanted to."

She didn't answer him, merely looking at him again until he broke first.

_"What?"_

"After that shocking display of lack of manners, you owe me." She smiled, and it wasn't a nice smile.

He took a minute, wondering why she hadn't been a Slytherin and grumbling before he bit. "_What __price?_"

"Unless we're in a formal setting, use my first name. And I will use yours."

Suspicion flooded his face, and he walked briskly over to her and loomed over her in the most menacing manner he could muster.

"And?"

"And what? Severus, we're adults. We're both professors. Let us at least act like civilised human beings."

As if by magic he deflated, turning away to pick up his wand which he had left on the front desk. Hermione stood, feeling slighted, and half sat on the another desk with her arms folded until the silence became unbearable.

"Is it too much to ask?"

A pause. The sounds of footsteps far away in a corridor. The drip of a slow-condensing potion in the corner. And then …

"No. Quite the opposite, _Hermione_. In one short space of time you have removed the only reason I had to truly hate you, and have done so in a very reasonable manner. I will need a few days to reassess my opinion of you."

He turned and looked at her with eyes that were remarkably lost. "You must understand that I despised you for saving me. I hated the weight of the gratitude I was supposed to have for you, and I could not see any way to have any sort of friendship with that hanging over us. And now … "

She waited a breath or two, then: "And now?"

"And now I must finish my rounds. Good evening, Hermione."

"Good night, Severus. And thank you for the cognac."

He gestured for her to precede him out of the room, and limped after her.


	4. Chapter 4

Even Minerva commented on the change in Severus's attitude over the next few days. He started to greet the staff with a "good morning", and was heard to offer useful suggestions to Madam Hooch on the best ingredients for a long-lasting polish suitable for the first-year practice brooms. But the person who was most surprised was Hermione, who received a note a few days after the _Legilimens_ incident asking her to join him for supper in his rooms.

This invitation threw her mightily, and her dreams for the next two nights were disturbing. The first night they were of her and Severus dancing under the stars on a frozen lake, each dressed for a Victorian-era ball. The music came from below the ice, and in the manner of dreams they glided and turned until the moonlight lifted them up and they were floating. On waking Hermione shook her head at the range of her imagination, and yet smiled through the day and walked as if her feet still moved high in the air.

Severus looked curiously at her that evening, but he left dinner early with Neville to discuss the supplies of gillyweed for the advanced classes. Hermione wasn't on duty, but she drifted back to her room hearing the Viennese Waltz echoing in her head, and wished that Ron had danced. Viktor's dancing at the Christmas Ball was the sweetest memory she had of him (although their brief, unskilled kisses behind the Owlery came a very close second), and she went to bed that Monday night wishing for more dreams like the ones of the night before.

The dreams that came to her this night though were rich and dark and wild with a dark and handsome virile man leading her on a private dance of passion. There was touch and feel and taste, and Hermione woke in the middle of the night with a moan of disappointment, one hand on her breast and the other between her legs. She tried to quieten her breathing and get back to sleep, but after half an hour she gave into the desire that still pulsed through her, and let her fingers and imagination drive her to gasping, muffled screams as the most powerful orgasm she had had for years drove through her body. As she drifted back to sleep, she wondered and hoped desperately that it wasn't a sign of oncoming hormonal changes and things that happen to women of a certain age.

The next morning Hermione felt drained yet more relaxed than she had since leaving the Ministry. Breakfast was delicious, but for some reason Severus only grunted a greeting and would not look at her. She talked instead to Orla Quirke, who had been three years in the Muggle Studies job and who adored comparing Wizarding labour saving devices with their Muggle equivalents.

That evening after dinner Hermione pressed her robes especially, and wore an elegant blue dress underneath instead of her usual sturdy but nondescript grey flannels and tweeds. For once she allowed herself a touch of lipstick, although she wasn't sure why. It was only supper with a colleague after all. With some trepidation she walked the dim corridors to Severus's rooms and knocked on his door.

The figure opening the heavy oaken door was quite different to that which had snarled at her earlier in the year. Severus was dressed in a dark velvet jacket that would not have been out of place in an Edwardian study. He looked somewhat uncomfortable, but his long hair was neatly tied in a queue, and he gestured for Hermione to come in and make herself comfortable. A pot of tea stood on a small side table, and a selection of petits-fours were arranged on the plate beside.

Hermione settled herself into a winged armchair and smiled up at Severus, determined not to be disconcerted by the situation. He seated himself on another chair and gestured to her to help herself, each obviously waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.

"It must have taken you ages to cook those, Severus. They look delicious."

He started, and passed her the plate; she took one and as she looked up their eyes met. He was finally smiling a little.

"Hours, probably. But not by me." She took a bite as he continued. "Apparently one of the house-elves has had some training in French cuisine, and is teaching the others new skills."

"That would be Daisy", Hermione commented. "She spent her last holiday in France, insisting on learning things that would make me happy – and all I wanted her to do was relax for a while." She sighed at the impossibility of the task, and popped the rest of the tiny cake in her mouth.

Severus raised one eyebrow in a manner usually seen on Lucius Malfoy. "I am surprised, Hermione, that you of all people keep a house-elf. Whatever happened to your campaign to free them?"

"I don't keep her – I employ her. Quite a different matter." Hermione helped herself to a second cake, and soon found herself describing her life as a single woman and her previous position in the Ministry of Magic to Severus. To her surprise, the hour and a half passed very pleasantly and it was with genuine reluctance that she rose at ten to head to bed. She brushed the crumbs off the front of her robes, then held out her hand to Severus.

"Thank you. I had a lovely evening." She took his hand to shake it, but he held hers for a moment and looked down at it, then into her eyes.

"It is my intention, Hermione, to try to mend the rift I caused with my unfounded suspicions."

"Not unfounded, Severus. If I'd thought I could, I would have gone back to save you."

"Then would you consider this your regular invitation to supper with me on Tuesdays?"

"Gladly."

And she squeezed his hand and walked out.

Her evenings were rather busy from then on. Tuesdays with Severus. She had corridor duty on Wednesdays, Arithmancy coaching on Thursdays and Fridays, and Hannah started inviting her to dinner at the Leaky Cauldron on Sunday nights, so that Hermione and Neville would return to Hogwarts together. Between those and her marking and class preparations she barely had time to scratch. Most afternoons there was tea in the staffroom and for some reason she seemed to draw Hogsmeade duty on a far-too-frequent basis, something she blamed on the age-old tendency in both Muggle and Wizarding worlds to give the least-wished-for tasks to the newest recruit.

Most frustrating, though, was the recent but necessary check of the Owlery after reports of unwanted mail coming through. For a short while the appearance of an American Screech Owl raised suspicions, but it seemed to be a legitimate delivery owl. What was _not_ legitimate was the introduction of what was called in the Muggle world "junk mail". Obviously _some_ wizards with a lack of principles felt the need to emulate the attributes of the unscrupulous Muggles, and even Hermione started receiving unsolicited mail advertising "cheap cauldrons", "genuine certified crushed emeralds" and "the date of your dreams". This last made her laugh, and she asked Neville about it.

"Oh yes, they're very popular." He opened the brochure and showed her the requirements for the "dream date". "You have to obtain a hair from your heart-throb, but they provide the polyjuice, and for an hour you can sleep with the person you've always wanted. I hear some enterprising members of the Chudleigh Cannons are selling their hairs to groupies for exactly that purpose." And Hermione went off to her next class, laughing at the idea of her ex-husband flogging off ginger hairs through a dodgy escort agency. Unfortunately, patrolling the Owlery didn't cut down the amount of rubbish coming in, so she and the other inhabitants of Hogwarts resigned themselves to two or three extra pieces of parchment each per week.

Even with all the other pleasant things happening, her Tuesday evenings were a bright spot in her week. The conversations with Severus started innocuously, with discussions on the best way to handle the smart aleck Finch-Fletchley girl to what could be done to head off the incipient crush she felt young Ivan might be developing on her.

"There was a reason, Hermione, why I kept the gruff exterior for so long. When I first started teaching, I wasn't much older than the seventh years, and my heart was still in tatters from Lily's death. And while I would have dearly loved to make friends with some of the students, I know that would make them a target for the Dark Lord when the time came for his return."

He fell silent, and stared into the fireplace for a while, and she sat companionably with him and felt no need to fill in the quiet. A log popped, the slight noise bringing Severus's attention back to the room, and he turned to Hermione with an apologetic smile.

"And then, once I was back here, I felt as if the whole world had died and been reborn, and only I was left from before. It's a strange feeling, that disassociation. Almost as if I'd been transported to somewhere that looked the same but was ever-so-slightly different."

Hermione felt secure enough now in their friendship to ask something she had wondered about for a long time. "What _do_ you remember about that night?"

He turned back to the fire and made a few unnecessary adjustments to the pile of logs that glowed gently on that dark autumn night. His voice trembled, but he spoke clearly.

"There was pain, of course. When Nagini bit me, my whole body was on fire. I barely remember pulling out my memories for Potter. _That_ took all my strength, and I could feel my breathing and heart rate slowing, and a great peace coming onto me."

Severus sat back in his chair, the wings shading his face from the firelight. His voice steadied, and seemed to lose some of its rasp as he talked, and Hermione found herself taken back to that night and the pain and sorrow that had come to them all.

"The venom was what saved me though. I would have bled out if it hadn't acted like a hibernation spell. Then some time after – a long time after – someone came. Someone fully grown, so not one of the younger Hogwarts students. They were dressed in robes or dark flowing clothing, and they were crying. Whoever it was, they knew what had happened. I felt a sting in my arm that woke me from my stupor, but my eyes weren't working very well. All I can remember is the sting flooding over my body like an icy-cold wave, driving out the searing heat from the venom. And I was lifted away from the hut – but that small movement was too much, and I don't know anything from then until I woke in St Mungo's, too weak to move."

"And you thought it was me?"

"They told me later that someone had used a hypodermic needle on me, and a very specific anti venom. The anti venom _I_ developed years before, when Arthur Weasley was bitten." Severus leaned forward and looked fully at her. "I _know_ the anti venom stock was exhausted. And I only know of one witch bright enough to make more of it and versed enough in Muggle techniques to use a Muggle needle to save me." He leaned back again, his voice almost wistful. "And I'm sure there was no-one else who would have taken the trouble."

Hermione sat near him, his breathing – still stertorous – filling the space between them. The clock at the side struck ten, and she stood, walked over to him and put her hand on his.

"I wish it had been me too. Even before we knew, I'd realised there was something else going on, that you weren't the villain you had carefully painted yourself to be. I would have tried, if I'd thought I could. But I'm glad _someone_ did."

She squeezed his hand gently, then let herself out, his "Goodnight, Hermione" following her as she closed his door and headed down the corridor to her own room.


	5. Chapter 5

That night, while no full substitute for a willing partner, Hermione's dreams had a deep passionate flavour, with kisses that burned and hands that wandered. Once more she woke before dawn and wished she had someone else to help her get back to sleep and not just the "Toy Broomstick" she had specially ordered from the Weasley's private catalogue after her previous frustrating night. The sensations from the small vibrating device helped, and finally she fell back asleep as the eastern sky started to lighten.

She woke again, heavy eyed and fuzzy-brained, as Daisy brought her a fresh juice and a cheerful "Good morning!". It took Hermione until noon to wake properly, and it was a good thing she could teach basic commutativity laws with her eyes shut. Her walk into the the dining room at lunch though was a little confronting, as Severus blushed as deeply as Ivan did when addressing her. Hermione looked quizzically at Severus, and a memory of the previous night's dream brought a rush into her own cheeks She tripped over a stair on the way up to the teacher's table. Severus started up at this, then was jerked back with an oath. A lock of his hair caught on the chair, and he pulled free and cursed as they snagged and ripped out, but he wouldn't meet Hermione's eyes as he hurried from the hall. Hermione slid into the vacated seat and asked Minerva to pass the pumpkin juice.

As she ate, Hermione's mind followed its own path to the brochures she had received. Her eyes opened wide, then narrowed as she carefully checked that none of the other teachers was looking her way. Casually she plucked the hairs off the chair carvings, wound them carefully around her finger then stashed them in the pocket of her robe. That afternoon she sent a prudent owl to the least dubious-looking company, asking for a price and a clear list of their conditions.

The next Saturday, after checking that every last visitor to Hogsmeade had returned to the castle, Hermione told Minerva she was heading back to London for dinner with an old Muggle friend, and she stepped through the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron shortly after six. She waved at Hannah as she walked through the crowded taproom and down into the Muggle world. It didn't take her long to navigate to some back streets near Victoria Station and a discreet yet respectable hotel, where a concierge with a bored expression handed her a key and told her that her visitor was waiting.

And as she walked through the door, the sight of her date took her breath away. Standing beside the bed, a bottle of champagne on ice beside him and a single rose in his hand, stood Severus Snape – or rather, his expensive facsimile. He walked up to her and took her in his arms.

The grey-flecked hair flopped forward as he leaned over her. Hermione, bent back in his arms in the traditional tango pose, blinked twice as the wizard, his long nose mere centimetres from hers, took the rose from between his yellowing teeth and murmured seductively "Let me treat you, my love, as you ought to be treated. Let me worship your body, delight your soul and overwhelm your senses. My heart shall be yours, if only..."

"If only", snapped Hermione, "you could be a little more _realistic_!" She pushed herself upright, which he wasn't expecting, and he accidentally dropped her. As she fell to the floor the face of Severus Snape stared at her, confused.

"I'm sorry", he replied. "I thought you were after the romantic package."

"Sev … Professor Snape would _never_ act like that." She picked herself up and started brushing off the dust.

"Let me try again, then." The man poured two glasses of champagne and handed her one. She drank it in one gulp, and he refilled it. As she took it, he gently brushed the hair from her cheek behind her ear, and the touch took her breath away. To cover her confusion she took a sip, then he gently lifted the glass out of her hand and placed it back on the table.

"I can take this slowly", he murmured, "if that's what you want."

"Slowly. Yes. Slow would be good."

Music started to drift through the room, and he took her in his arms and slowly started turning her around the floor. For an eternity and a moment they circled, Hermione's head resting on the chest where the breath still rasped in and out of the damaged lungs. Finally they came back to the table, and he took her face in both his hands and kissed her very very gently.

And an alarm went off in the corner. The kiss ended, and with a seemingly-genuine expression of regret the pseudo-Severus stepped back from her.

"Eight o'clock. I must go."

"I feel like you're Cinderella and I'm the Prince."

The man looked puzzled. "Will I see you again?"

"Possibly. Will it even be you?"

He smiled – the first really natural smile she had seen on him. "Would you even know? But probably, yes." And he kissed her briefly one last time, and went.

Hermione hurried back to the Cauldron, entering the taproom just nicely in time to see Neville embracing Hannah. The pair welcomed her warmly.

"Dinner tomorrow night?"

"I'd love to, Hannah. One of the highlights of the week." Hermione gathered her robe around her, turned to enter the floo and bumped into Severus – the real one, presumably – who was stalking across the floor with a black look on his face.

"Beg your pardon, Severus."

His face darkened, if that was at all possible. "Following me, Hermione?"

"No … why I …" But she had no time to finish the sentence before he muttered something and stepped into the flash of the floo.

Hermione shrugged and followed, arriving home to be met by Daisy. "Miz, Headmistress is looking for you. She is wanting you to come see her. Nothing urgent, but she wants to see how you is doing."

Minerva welcomed her to the Head's rooms with a warm smile and a glass of excellent Scotch whisky.

"A month. Can it really be a month already? How have you settled in?"

"Faster than I thought, Minerva. Everyone has been helpful, and the students are at least predictable."

"Yes, the humdrum has been a welcome change after having you three as students." Minerva gave a rueful laugh and sipped her own drink. "In all my years of teaching I have _never_ taught such reprobates as you, Harry and Ron, and it didn't take long before the rest of the students started doing things we had never seen before. I even had to admonish Neville a couple of times, and then tell the most outrageous lies to Augusta about how well-behaved he was."

They laughed companionably, and Hermione looked over the study. A few prominent tartan touches had been added since she was a student, and a large portrait of the Pride of Portree Quidditch Team stood in the middle of the mantelpiece, the dated uniforms ruffling slightly with the hot air rising past them.

"You played?"

Minerva smiled, a sad note in her voice. "See if you can guess which one is me, and I'll tell you the story."

Hermione put her glass down and walked up to the picture. To her left, the portrait of Albus Dumbledore peered over his spectacles at her, anticipating a good tale. Hermione scanned the young witches, each proudly brandishing a gold-ribbon-laced broom and a fearsome set of purple shin-pads. None of the faces seemed familiar until Hermione stopped at the lass with her foot on the ball box, who sported a black eye, a broken arm and long black wavy hair. Something about the gleam in the visible eye seemed familiar, and Hermione turned triumphantly.

"Well done!"

"I had no idea. Did you play for long?"

Minerva's smile broadened. "That picture was taken at the end of my very first match. You can see the damage – I was Keeper, and the visiting Stirling Selkies weren't in a mood to trifle. We were the bottom of the table and they were the premiers, and we won 120 to 0, thanks in a very small part to one of my saves – the same save that broke my arm."

She sighed and sipped her drink. "It took eight weeks for my arm to heal properly, even with magic. And the next match I was allowed to play in lasted a whole ten minutes. "

"Whatever happened?"

"Bludger to the side of the head. The doctors at St Eiluids said it was too dangerous for me to ever play again." Her eyes twinkled and she grinned at Hermione. "But that was the semi-final, and I stopped the Bludger from hitting our Seeker. We won that game. And as a result the team went on to win the All-British League cup. For that, I am content."

"But to never play again..." Hermione was no great fan, but she had lived too long with the hard-core players not to know what it meant to them at least, and here was a woman who had been prepared to bend school rules if it meant getting an amazing Seeker in the team.

"I coach. And I keep an eye out for exceptional players. I've been the starting push on at least eight World Cup players." Minerva looked deeply into her glass. "I have a special gift put away. My coach gave me her memories of my last game, and the snitch. Once in a while I pull them out and relive my brief moment of glory."

The remembered pleasure brought a smile to Hermione's face too, and she leaned back in her chair and sipped her Scotch. "If only it was possible to go back and watch it for real."

"Indeed. Alas, there are only two known methods for doing that, and neither of them are worth it by this stage."

"Time-Turner is one", Hermione agreed. "But to go back so far – and then to have to live through all the years of conflict afterwards..."

"Also, it is desperately dangerous." Minerva pointed up at the portrait of Everard Paul. "Headmaster Paul tried to go back just ten years to stop Leonissa Black from one of her evil acts. He forgot about the old wall beside what's now Hagrid's hut. They found his leg bones sticking out when school started … " Minerva shuddered. "Were you never tempted to meddle with the other Time-Turner, the one you had in your third year?

"Meddle?"

"Go back and change events that had already happened."

"Oh, I'd not have thought up anything that involved at that age." Hermione sat back and sipped at her drink, and Albus's eyes twinkled at her over Minerva's shoulder. "Whatever happened to that Time-Turner?"

It's in the third drawer of my old desk, Minerva," Albus spoke up at last. "Locked away in its box against future need."

Minerva nodded. "If such a need should arrive, which I pray it wouldn't. And the alternative is worse."

"Alternative?"

Minerva's voice dropped to a whisper, and the portraits behind her quietly leaned forward to hear.

"It's a charm spell with a potion. The _Chronologous__ Charm_. Sends you back a specified amount of time, depending on the strength of the potion, but the further back you go the shorter time you have there."

She stopped, and a quiet voice behind her said "Tell her the rest, Minerva."

Hermione looked at her companions face, and guessed. "Fatal?"

"Upon return. Less than a minute as your body dissolves in the most incredibly painful manner. No-one's made the potion in years, and the ingredients are next to impossible to obtain. Body parts of rare mystical beings from five continents, the powder from a Time-Turner, a crushed scarlet emerald and the stone from an old Roman altar. And the knowledge to combine them."

"And to be desperate enough to use it." Hermione leaned forward. "Who did it? Someone must have if you know so much."

Minerva shed a quiet tear. "It was Professor Higginsworth, the Potions Master when I was a lass here. His wife had died of a heart attack twenty years before, just after an argument they had, and he wanted to go back one last time and tell her he loved her. None of us realised it was his obsession until he didn't come down for lunch one day. And I found the note he left, and Professor Dumbledore rushed to his rooms just as he returned, and told us about it later. Higginsworth had a whole wonderful quarter hour with his wife, said all the things he wanted to say, and then came back and died."

Wrapping her hands around her glass, Hermione sighed. "But to love someone so much that you'd want to go back, just for one last short time, that's so …"

"Tragic?"

"Stupid." Hermione shook, and put her glass down before she crushed it in anger. "Far better to live as much as you can with them now so that, when the time comes, you can let them go with a sad smile."

"From the sound of that I'd be willing to believe you'd thought it over already."

"I did. When my grandmother died. She'd been ill for months, but she slipped away at a family gathering, fell asleep in the corner surrounded by laughing children and people she loved. My parents didn't notice until everyone else left, but while it was sad, it wasn't such a bad way to go. She loved us, but she was ready to leave. And we loved her, and she knew that."

"And so did you. Albus was right, you know. Death _is_ just the next big adventure."

"No need to hurry it," came from above their heads, and they looked up to where Albus shifted in his seat. "Take it when the time comes and you're called to the next level." He stood and bowed to the ladies. "Now if you will excuse me, it's ten o'clock and I have a chess appointment with Dilys. "

He left, and Hermione felt it was time she left too. She gathered up the glasses and put them on the sideboard as Minerva went to the large desk nearby. Something in the Headmistress's movement made Hermione look up at where Minerva stood, looking worried.

"Hermione – he did say the _third_ drawer?"

"Definitely. Isn't it there?"

Minerva looked at her with a concerned expression. "Not here, not in any of the other drawers."

A low cough sounded from one of the portraits, and they turned their heads to Dexter Fortescue.

"I believe one of your staff may have taken it, Minerva. "

"When?"

"Saturday a week ago. Someone tall came in and went though the drawers. Greyish hair. Thin. Didn't see the face."

Hermione's brow creased as she ran through the possibilities. "Severus. He's the only one that fits it all."

"What about Neville? Oh, that's right. Spends the weekend with his wife." Minerva smiled at the image. "Who would have thought we'd allow married teachers. In my day …"

"In your day, Minerva, you would have if you could have. I'll leave the Time-Turner matter in your hands then, and go to get some sleep." Hermione turned to the door. "He must have a reason to want it, but I'm surprised he didn't tell you."

"And I am too. I'll ask him tomorrow. Good night, Hermione. I _am_ sorry to have kept you up."

"Not at all, it was good to catch up. Although I must be getting older too." Hermione mimed a sore back and rheumatism, and limped out to Minerva's amused laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione felt no need to take further advantage of the "special escort service" immediately. She felt almost guilty about it – it wasn't as if she had truly cheated on her ex-husband. Or anyone else. Which didn't explain why she felt awkward knocking at Severus's door the next Tuesday night.

He took longer than usual to open it, and seemed perturbed by her presence.

"It's Tuesday. Should I not be here?"

"No, it's not … I apologise for being rather brusque the other night." He held the door open for her. "You had every right to spend a free Saturday night off the grounds."

"As did you, Severus. And what you do in your own free time is your own business." She walked into the room, the gleam of the firelight on the chairs more welcoming than ever. "Although, I think I know what you were doing to make you so easily thrown."

Did she imagine it, or did Severus blush? Certainly he was unable to meet her eyes, and he seemed to find poking at the coals a suitable alternative.

"Guess your worst, Hermione."

"Very well then. If it's not indulging in an old Muggle habit of cheesy comics, which would mean you were collecting a whole season's supply of _Beano,_ it must be more serious. What could Muggle London provide that Diagon Alley failed to cough up? Hmmm."

She sidled up to his bookshelf, where an envelope with gaily-coloured South African stamps lay on top of a large tin. "And here lies the proof."

Severus lunged at her but she lifted up the envelope to triumphantly show the tin's brightly-coloured label. "Fortnum and Mason Marmalade Biscuits!"

He drew himself up to his most formal and overbearing height and looked down his nose at her. "It's not what you think."

"Oh yes it is", she retorted. "I know as well as you do that it's Minerva's birthday next week. And I almost bought her some of the same – saw it in a London shop."

Severus collapsed slightly and sat down heavily in his chair. "And you think _this_ is my evil secret?"

"Only because I know they come in bundles of _two _tins." Hermione pointed to the biscuits sitting on the plate on the table. "I'm guessing that's the end of the first tin, and only a fear of being found out stopped you from breaking open the remaining one." She picked up one biscuit and bit delicately into it. "But fear not. Your sticky secret is safe with me."

At that, Severus smiled, then began to laugh. "Your powers of observation are astute as ever, Hermione. Now let me arrange some tea to go with my contraband."

They talked for some time, Hermione feeling more relaxed in Severus's company as the minutes became an hour. At ten she rose as usual to head off to bed. Severus rose too, and escorted her to the door. His hand closed on hers as she reached for the handle, and he turned her to look at him. For a brief moment Hermione thought he was going to kiss her, but her merely held her hand, looked deep into her eyes, and said softly "Sweet dreams." She squeezed his hand in reply then let herself out.

Halfway down the corridor she ran into Neville, who was peering out the window at a late-rising moon. Neville looked tired, and did not notice her approaching.

"Spot something?"

He jumped slightly, then turned to her. The early moonlight caught his face from the side, and for a moment Hermione thought she was looking at a skull, then he rubbed his hands over his face and the illusion vanished as the moon dipped behind some heavy clouds.

"Just trying to work out the best time to harvest my special project. I've managed to coax some white-centred lupins to flower, and their calyxes are almost ready."

"And you've probably been up the last three nights just to make sure, haven't you?" Hermione laughed and Neville grinned back, looking more like the hero of the Battle than he had since she started back at the school.

"Were you always so good at picking my intentions, Hermione?"

"Not always. Sometimes. Go to bed, Neville – I'll finish your corridor walk for you, and you can check your seeds in the morning. You should know that if they weren't ready by the full moon three days ago, they won't be ready now until the new moon late next week."

He started to protest, but she shooed him off and commenced stalking the halls. Half an hour and a recalcitrant Scamander third-year later, she was more than ready for her own bed.

Severus's last words came back to haunt her though. Images of dark-cloaked wizards whirling her through twirling dances took the first part of the night, and she woke shortly after 1am with a start, the last strains of a foxtrot echoing in her mind. She shook her head and rolled over, willing herself back to sleep, but this time …

_This time, Severus, in no uncertain terms, took her in his arms and kissed her with a passion that she's always suspected lay deep within his soul. Her own battered heart responded, and she kissed him hard and unreservedly. His hands, untutored and unskilled but led by desire, roamed over her body relentlessly, sending a fiery blaze of lust through her. Robes and outer clothes were discarded as his head dipped down to her breast, licking slowly across the top left exposed by her bra, as he fumbled behind her with the clasp. As the straps slid off …_

A loud crash woke Hermione with a start, and the rumble of thunder dragged her out of her delicious sleep far too early. Words entirely unbecoming a member of the Hogwarts teaching staff echoed around her bedroom, emphasised by the flash of lightning that lit the whole room and showed her Daisy perched at the end of the bed.

"Daisy?"

"Mistress is not angry with me?"

Hermione shook her head to clear the cobwebs. "Why would I be angry with you? Unless you caused the storm."

"I is not causing the storm, Mistress. But I came in to wake Mistress, and Daisy has not heard Mistress use those words since Mistress was working at the Ministry."

Hermione tried to concentrate a little better, then looked at Daisy, who was wringing her hands.

"I'm not angry with you, Daisy. The storm just woke me out of a … nice … dream." She rubbed her face with her hands, then looked up again. "Daisy? You were sent to wake me. Why?"

"There is being trouble in Gryffindor, Mistress, and Nearly-Headless Nick is needing help."

"Where's Professor Longbottom? Isn't that his job?"

Daisy wrung her hands so hard it looked as if she would break the fingers off. "No-one is finding the Professor, Mistress. Please?"

Hermione needed only a moment to throw on a dressing gown and slippers and rush out with Daisy to the Gryffindor tower. There in the common room were three very wet and miserable first-years, including Lucy, Percy Weasley's daughter and Hermione's own niece. Nearly Headless Nick was comforting the three, and looked up at Hermione with gratitude.

"We can't find Professor Longbottom, and the roof of the girl's dormitory has collapsed." Nick waved his hand over the three girls. "They're damp and frightened, but I think they'll be all right."

The next half hour was spent settling the girls down to sleep in front of the common-room fire, followed by an inspection of their dorm. Luckily the damage wasn't as bad as had been suspected. Neville himself rushed into the room just as Hermione and Minerva were picking over the broken bits.

"Sorry – was just having one last check of those flowers. How bad is it here?" He peered through the hole in the roof, the old rafters silhouetted against the last flashes of lightning off to the west.

"I'm thinking there was some old damage from the Battle, and this storm has conspired to pull those tiles off the broken rafter." Minerva held her wand high, the _Lumos_ spell on the end gleaming off the rain-soaked beams. "It will be a week or so putting this right, but it's a mercy this happened now and not in the middle of winter. I'll owl around some companies in the morning. In the meantime, if you two could help me with this tarpaulin?" She gestured to one being dragged up the stairs by a bevy of house elves directed by Filch, and with a struggle and some well-timed _Leviosa_ spells, they had the tower at least protected against more water damage until repairs could be effected. The Elves and Filch were left to deal with the mess, and the three Professors headed downstairs to check on their charges then head to their own beds.

Hermione found herself too keyed up for sleep; the dream that had been interrupted playing on her mind until, with the first gleams of dawn struggling through the storm clouds, she gave into temptation and dragged the "Toy Broom" once more out of her bottom drawer and used it to excellent advantage, barely stifling an "_Oh__ Severus!_" moan as she came. Sleep came easier then, although not nearly enough to make up for the broken nature of the night.

And in the morning, she sent a letter and a second hair to the Escort service.


	7. Chapter 7

The next Saturday night Hermione was very glad of the bout of wet weather that had set in around London, as she scurried once more to the hotel and her reserved room. The concierge took a minute to confirm her booking, and she glanced around the lobby while she waited, noticing a middle-aged man and a woman in her late twenties talking earnestly in a corner and glancing in her direction. The concierge finally gave her her key with a knowing look, and she headed up to her room.

Five minutes later the knock on the door heralded the arrival of her date, and Hermione opened to the familiar sight of Severus Snape, this time in a set of dark blue dress-robes.

Fifty-five minutes later, a somewhat dishevelled Ersatz Snape opened the door, then turned and kissed Hermione goodnight before vanishing down the dark corridor. Hermione shut the door gently, then collapsed against it, every nerve in her body singing after a prolonged and fairly passionate petting session. Only her own reticence and the ringing of that accursed alarm had stopped things going "all the way". That, and somehow she couldn't bring herself to sleep with a facsimile of the man she …

She _what?_

Hermione had to admit it. She had a full-blown over-the-top crush on her colleague, her ex-teacher, her mentor. Hermione was in love with Severus.

She sat on the floor and smiled to herself – then cursed herself for being such an idealistic soft-headed twerp. "After all", she muttered as she straightened her clothes and put her hair back in order, "all I'm getting here is what I _want_ to get – not what he might actually be prepared to offer. Fool."

The realisation was more effective than a sudden cold shower, and it was a cool, calm Hermione who walked down the stairs ten minutes later and left her key at the front desk. Walking back through the rainy London streets, she happened to pass the shop where she had spotted the marmalade biscuits a week before. It was an overpriced tourist trap, catering for those taking the late trains from Victoria or staying in other accommodation more suited to travellers, but their selection of "genuine" British treats was wide, if expensive. Hermione browsed the shelves and selected a box of Clarnico mints and a tin of Quality Street toffees shaped like a London bus. Then she cast a discreet shield under her umbrella and headed out into the rain to the Cauldron.

Neville and Hannah persuaded her to stay long enough for a bowl of stew and a hunk of warm bread, both better than any spell at keeping out the cold of the night, and it was nearly ten when she stepped out of the floo in the staffroom – and almost onto Daisy.

"Please, Mistress, Professor McGonagall is wanting you immediately in her rooms"

"Daisy? You know you can come and tell me if it's really urgent." Hermione said as she grabbed the Elf's hand as Daisy went to stick it in the fireplace.

"But you said, Mistress, that when you is leaving the school you does not want to be disturbed. So Daisy waited."

Hermione sighed at the literal way the Elves took their orders, and hurried along the corridors and to the stairway which stood open waiting for her. She burst into Minerva's study

"Is everything all right? Has something happened?"

Minerva looked at her with a deliberately neutral eye, then the voice behind her spoke in tones that reminded her all too well of her school-days.

"Perhaps, Miss Granger, you can explain where you were this evening?"

And Hermione blushed a deep, deep red as she looked into the face she had last seen kissing her goodbye. At least she had a moment to compose herself before she blurted out something incriminating. With a deep breath, she drew herself up in her most imposing attitude, and attempted to look intimidating.

"I am an adult, Severus. What I do and where I go in my spare time is my own business and nobody else's."

The two glared at each other until Minerva walked between them and with a stern "Sit _down_!" sent them to armchairs opposite the fire.

"Minerva – what in Merlin's name is this all about?" Hermione bristled, still feeling like a twelve year old who had been caught stealing cakes.

Minerva took Hermione's hand and looked at her. "Perhaps you could trust me. Where you this evening from six until eight?"

Hermione blushed but looked Minerva in the eye. "Is it really that important?"

"My dear, I would not ask you unless it was."

The younger witch swallowed, but kept her head up. "I had an appointment."

"Where? Here, in the castle?"

"No, I was in London." Hermione sensed Minerva relax slightly, and continued. "I left through the staffroom floo at a quarter to six, and I've only just returned. And Hannah and Neville can verify this. I ate with them from just after eight until ten."

Minerva looked at Severus, who turned away from both of them, scowling heavily.

"Severus, I think at the very least you owe Hermione an apology."

Almost unwillingly he looked back at the two women and grunted a very unconvincing "sorry". Hermione turned to Minerva.

"What's all this about?"

"Do you remember that _Chronologous__ Charm_ I told you about last week? The one that can give you the power to go back through time?"

Hermione nodded, and Minerva continued. "Several rare and precious potion ingredients were stolen from Severus's stores tonight, while he was out. It had to have been a teacher, and we think it was either a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw."

"And you thought it was me." Hermione's voice was icy cold, and sent shivers down Minerva's spine.

"What else could I think?" Severus burst out. "You're the brightest witch of your age, the only one I can think of capable of creating the potion _and_ recreating the enchantment. Of _course_ I suspected you. And more so because you weren't in your rooms."

"HOW DARE YOU? And to think I was bringing _THIS_ to you!" And she reached into her shopping bag and threw the tin of toffees at Severus. The edge of the tin caught the arm of the chair he was sitting in, and the tin burst open, scattering brightly-coloured toffees all over the floor. Two landed in the fire, and the smell of burnt sugar drifted into the room. Minerva bent down and picked up one toffee in a bright yellow wrapper that had landed on her foot.

"I'm glad they weren't for me, Hermione. My teeth may be excellent, but I remember this one as being a complete jaw-breaker."

At this, Hermione, who had been through more than enough emotional turmoil that evening, broke into hysterical sobs. She couldn't even calm herself enough to charm the toffees back into their very battered tin, and could only look on helplessly as Severus gathered them up by hand and un-dented the tin into something that could hold them without popping open.

Minerva finally chose a soft caramel, and sat on a chair beside Hermione. "I do apologise for putting you through that, but we were very, very worried. Worried that you might try and go back, for whatever reason. And that the attempt would kill you."

Severus looked at her, his anger much diminished. "And I had no idea what could possibly drive you to sacrifice yourself for a mere few minutes in the past."

Hermione looked back at Severus, her anger overcoming any last reticence she might have had in asking. "Surely you, Severus, have as good a reason as any of us?" she snapped. "You could go back and save Lily. Hadn't you thought of that?"

"Don't you think I had, over and over again?" Severus scowled, the familiar dark expression strangely reassuring Hermione. "But by the time I'd found out about this spell, long after the War was over, I already knew that nothing I did would make her love me." He sat silently for a minute. "And even if I had a chance to save her, and her family, it would have changed so much that there was no guarantee we'd then be able to destroy the Dark Lord."

He gathered his resolve and looked Minerva straight in the eye. "Hard as it has been for me to admit it, the way the War worked out was for the best. Despite the pain, the damage, the deaths – we won. And if we were to change things drastically, we might not again. No, I would not go back. I have finally let go of the past, and have no desire to see it again.

"And besides, if things were to change that much, I might not have survived. And now I have decided I rather like living."

He turned away from her, blushing slightly as if he had said too much. Minerva affected not to notice, and started trying to work out the other possibilities. "Irma, Aurora, Filius and Sibyll were in a meeting with me, Hagrid says he and Orla were at the Hogs Head until nine, and Aberforth can verify that. And Neville was with Hannah, of course. No, I'm stumped."

"As am I. And exhausted. Would you two please excuse me?" Hermione walked out, proud that she did not slam the door behind her.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione's Sunday passed in a blur, the aftermath of the interrogation leaving her edgy and with a headache and she almost forgot to head through to the Leaky Cauldron for dinner until Daisy appeared with an umbrella "in case the Mistress wants to go and buy more toffees." At this, Hermione laughed and hugged the Elf, and she had the satisfaction of seeing Daisy's eyes widen with unexpected pleasure as the witch headed through the floo.

Hannah greeted her at the other end, whispering "Neville's insisting on cooking tonight."

At this point Neville came through from the kitchen, three champagne glasses in his hands. "Did you tell her?" he said, handing a glass to Hannah and kissing her tenderly.

"Not yet. I wanted you to be here for it too."

"Hermione, we are facing a moral dilemma", Neville pronounced, sounding more pompous than Fudge ever had. "In approximately twelve years, I shall either have to resign, or deal with the conundrum of teaching my offspring."

Hannah smiled and looked slightly embarrassed, and Hermione raised her glass to the pair. "I'm thrilled for you both!"

"We've been trying for such a long time." Hannah took a small sip from her glass then put it down. "Neville's been working on a mixture of Herbology potions, and it finally did the job."

"It was that, or ask you how to see a Muggle doctor about it." Neville looked exhausted, but proud as punch. "I'm just sorry it's taken this long."

"Oh, you'll be fine." Hermione rubbed his arm, surprised at how bony it felt under the thick jumper he wore. "Apart from endless sleepless nights, colic, tantrums..."

The proud parents-to-be laughed, and Neville drained his glass before heading back to the kitchen. Hannah and Hermione exchanged baby information, and were just covering the finer points of cots versus bassinets when Neville brought in a huge tureen of soup and a basket of fresh-baked bread.

"Hannah, with a cook like this in the family, I'm almost tempted to ask for an adoption myself. I had no idea you knew how to bake bread, Neville."

He pulled a bottle of wine from under his apron and presented it for her approval. "I can't claim to have brewed this, but all the rest is my work, and the wine was a thank you gift from a parent some years ago." The soup was rich and hearty, the wine slipped down _very_ smoothly, and before too long both Neville and Hermione were a trifle more inebriated than they meant to be. Sitting around the fire after the food, Neville spoke up.

"Did I ever tell you what happened to me just before the final battle?"

"No, I don't believe you did. I know I was off with Harry and Ron trying to find Snape, but … "

He sighed and settled back into his chair. "I can tell you now I was in one hell of a blue funk. I'd been brave up to then, but the deaths and the pain were starting to get to me. When Harry went back to the forest for You Know, I _knew_ he was going to die, and I thought that was it. That it was all over. And I went off to the closet in that room behind the staffroom and was ready to dissolve into a puddle of jelly.

"And then ..."

He paused and took another drink of the Burgundy, closing his eyes and inhaling the bouquet.

"And then, _he_ came."

"Who? Harry?"

"No. A stranger. A man. Fully grown, in Hogwarts' teachers' robes. I never saw his face clearly, and he spoke very low, but his hair was pepper-and-salt grey and his hands were thin – the skin stretched so tight that you could see all the bones, or so it seemed. And he opened the door, came and sat down beside me, his hood over his face.

"I can tell you I was close to tears at this point, but he took my hand in his – it was icy cold – and he put something in it. Then he told me to hold onto it and swallow it in an hour's time. That he couldn't be there with me when the time came, but that I _must_ do it, and it would save me from Nagini's blood, which would poison me otherwise. It was some sort of plant-based pill, made from a mass of tiny shoots compressed to make a solid pellet, almost too large to swallow. I looked at him, and while I couldn't make out his face, his eyes were strangely bright. And then he said something I've never forgotten." He stopped again, and Hermione waited until the silence stretched to unbearable. She leaned forward, fascinated.

"What was it?"

"He said I was only going to be this frightened twice in my life. That this was the first time, but that the last time wouldn't be for many, many years. That now he had one other person he needed to give the antidote to. Then he told me that I should ask the hat for the sword, and that I should watch out for Bellatrix.

"And then he left. And I think he headed towards the Shrieking Shack. I think it was him who saved Severus.

"But I failed."

"How? You were there at the right time, swinging that sword and taking Nagini's head off. You didn't fail." Hermione reached across and squeezed his hand hard. "In fact, if it hadn't been for you, the battle would have been won by Voldemort, and none of this here would have been possible. You wouldn't have married Hannah, you wouldn't be expecting your first child, I wouldn't have married Ron and had those red-headed scamps …"

Neville grimaced. "I panicked. I took the pill early, afraid I'd forget. And then …" He put down his glass and rolled up his sleeve. His left arm was a mass of darkened scar tissue, black dead lines and white flaking skin. As he flexed his fingers the tendons showed against the skin of his forearm, some of them in ugly knots. Hermione reached out to touch it and felt nothing but cold, hard leathery flesh.

"Nagini?"

"Bellatrix yelled something about my parents as I was swinging. I flinched, and Nagini bit me just as I took her head off." He carefully rolled the sleeve down, wincing a little as the fabric touched the rawest sections. "If it hadn't been for that antidote, I'd have died in seconds. As it was, I was knocked out for a few minutes, and I still have problems even today." Neville fell silent for a moment, then spoke quietly, his tears close to the surface. "We think it's the long-term effects of it that stopped us having children."

"Until now, love." Hannah reached over and took both his hands. "Come April you'll be able to look into your child's eyes, and won't the wait be worth it?"

"And besides", Hermione added, "if you had gone after Bellatrix you wouldn't have had time to kill Nagini – and you would have died for certain. Horrible as it seems, even if you could go back in time to change things, they'd probably have to stay just the same for us to win. Trust me on this one." She blushed. "I've had occasion recently to discuss just this exact situation at depth, and I'm convinced that the past cannot be changed – not without severe consequences."

The three sat silently for a moment, then Neville surreptitiously wiped his eyes and sat up straighter.

"Did you know, Hermione, that that has weighed on me for years – and now I see that it's true. Thank you."

"Hermione, though, was struck with a thought. "Was it definitely a man who gave you the antidote?"

"Almost certainly. He – or whoever – spoke very softly, but it was more like a softly-spoken male voice."

Hermione sat back, relieved and yet somehow saddened. "Then it wasn't me", she murmured.

"Beg pardon?"

"It's just … someone else thought it might have been me."

"Someone else?"

"Snape. Severus. He thought I might have been the one."

And she shook her head, finished her wine and held out her hand to Neville, who helped pull her to standing.

"We need to head back."

"Indeed. I'll be right behind you." And she hugged Hannah then walked over to the floo and back to Hogwarts.

* * *

><p>By Tuesday night Hermione still wasn't sure if she wanted to talk to Snape, when he surprised her by waiting outside the dining room for her.<p>

"Allow me to escort you back to your room, Hermione."

"Oh, so it's 'Hermione' again, is it?" she snapped, still annoyed at his suspicions of the Saturday before. Severus guided her out the door with a determined hand under her elbow, and along the corridors to her room. When he finally spoke again, it was hesitant with caution.

"If you will allow me to resume using your first name, I have … it was not something I did easily to begin with, and I would much rather continue the practice. May I, Hermione?"

She smiled in spite of herself. They reached her door and she turned and took his hand.

"Please, Severus. I would prefer you to cal me 'Hermione' too." She looked up and down the corridor quickly, then surprised him by pulling him into her room.

"What the … ?"

"Shhhh – you don't want anyone hearing." She let him go, and walked briskly to her desk where she picked up a length of parchment and a fresh quill. "and before you leave here tonight, if you want any sort of help with who is making this _Chronologous __Charm_, then you need to tell me everything you can."

His expression relaxed, and he walked over to the old battered sofa she had in front of her own fire.

"It requires very specialised ingredients."

"Minerva told me that – from five different continents." She sat beside him and started writing.

"That's only a rough description. Each of the ingredients has to do with the mastery of time. Tail feather from an American Golden Eagle, scales from an Ouroboros, a phial of Mamlambos, that sort of thing. I found an envelope from South Africa in one of the staffroom rubbish bins, which might have been from a delivery."

"There was an American owl around a couple of weeks ago, which may well have been another." Hermione started scribbling down information as they went through. It wasn't long before they had compiled a list of materials, and she offered to calculate the expected effects the next night.

"It could take a while, but I think I know which way to work this". She grimaced. "It has to be someone with a desperate need to go."

Severus looked at her with a tired eye. "You really haven't worked it out, have you?"

"Worked out what?" Tiredness made Hermione edgy and slow, and she was entirely unprepared when Severus took the quill and parchment from her hands, and then took her face and held it so that she _had_ to look into his eyes. Once more she felt as if he was reading the secrets at the back of her soul, but then he leaned forward and kissed her very gently on the lips.

"I thought you might be the one who went back for me."

"Oh."

And he kissed her again, sweetly, softly, as if she was something terribly valuable that he could not bear to lose. She wrapped her arms around him and started to kiss back, but he stopped and gently drew away."

"Don't."

"Don't?"

"Don't come back and save me. I couldn't bear it."

And before she could tell him she _knew_ it wasn't her, he stood and let himself out of her rooms.


	9. Chapter 9

"This is the last time", Hermione swore as she headed once more through the Leaky Cauldron floo on the next Saturday night. Her emotions were getting too mixed up between the facsimile Snape and the real one, and she knew she had to sort things out with the real one once and for all, but the idea of an evening's … well, an hour's sweet canoodling was too much for her. Ron had never been one for snuggling sessions, and Hermione had now discovered she had a taste for them.

And besides, it was her last saved "Snape" hair too.

She brushed the small quantity of ash off her clothing that always managed to get there after using the Floo, then looked up to see Hannah standing by the bar. The normally-unflappable woman was looking as upset as a house-elf caught in a lie, and Hermione went straight over to her.

"Is it the baby?"

"It's ... come into the back." The blonde-haired woman led the way into the private rooms, and Hermione felt that the news wouldn't be as good as the last time she was here. Hannah turned to her, tears streaming down.

"It's Neville."

"Has something happened to him?"

Hannah gulped, and pulled Hermione down to sit beside her on the sofa. "You saw his arm last week?"

"It was ghastly. How has he coped with that for all these years?"

"He hasn't." Hannah fished for a handkerchief and blew her nose. "It wasn't that bad. Not to start with. He had a few side effects but they were brief spells of dizziness and an occasional numbness. His arm was barely marked. But about ten years ago, I realised that it was getting worse. That he'd disappear off into Knockturn Alley for a couple of hours, then half a day, and come back reeking of cheap painkilling potions."

She looked up at Hermione, her eyes bleak with concealed fear. "And he's so afraid of looking like a coward, or making a fuss. He won't tell me, says it's nothing, just an allergic reaction to Gurdyroot or a late-Autumn rash or something. But I know. I've known for a long time." Hannah paused, trying to gather the strength to stay it, because saying something makes it true.

"It's Nagini's poison. And I'm so afraid for him."

Hermione swallowed, a small dark fear starting inside her. "What do you want me to do?"

"Tomorrow night, when you come to dinner, help me. Talk to him. If we confront him together, maybe he'll listen."

"But then what?"

"You get on well with Professor Snape, don't you? Neville's still terrified of him, despite getting the painkiller from him. And I'm so glad he's getting the right stuff now and not some cheap back-alley version. But he's afraid Snape will be angry at him for not telling him the truth. Tomorrow night, we could persuade him together, then you could take Neville to Snape."

She paused, then took a deep breath and smiled through the tears. "He wants to be so brave, but I'm afraid it will kill him."

Hermione wrapped her arms around Hannah and hugged her hard, just as the door opened and Neville walked in. "Everything all right?"

"Pregnancy hormones, Neville. Your poor wife is going to have hair-trigger emotions for the next several months, and you'd better be ready to deal with them."

Hermione stood and smiled at Hannah, whose back was to her husband. Hannah mouthed _thank you_ to her, then turned to Neville. "I'll be fine. Some stupid pictures of puppies - they never tell you about this. Hermione, don't you have a date?"

"Oh Merlin, yes. I'm late." And Hermione waved to the Longbottoms and rushed out the door and out into the darkness of the London October evening.

The wind blew her in through the door as if it was trying to hurry her, and she laughed as she shook the rain and sodden autumn leaves off her umbrella. The usual clerk sat at the concierge's desk, and she bustled over just as the clock struck seven.

"I'm …"

"He's waiting for you. Room thirty-two." And he thrust the key at her and pointed her at the stairs. Hermione stared at him for a moment at disbelief at his rudeness, then took the key and hurried up. After all, if her date had arrived then the timer was already ticking.

She let herself into the room, glad that the fire had been lit and it was warm and cosy. The familiar dark shape stood beside the fire, wearing the soutane-like school robes she usually saw him in.

"You're late" he grumped.

"And you're being incredibly rude, which is the closest you've ever been to the real thing." she muttered to herself, but dropped the raincoat and umbrella on a chair and made sure the door was properly closed. Turning to her "date" with a smile, she tried to think of the most straightforward way to sat what she needed to say. Which was too long for the other.

"Well?"

"Sorry – just trying to phrase this right. Would it be all right with you if we just went straight to the physical stuff?"

He took three long strides over to her, grabbed her in his arms, and kissed her so hard she felt her lip bruise.

"Like that?"

"Hmm. Yes. Like that."

"Little know-it-all." And he wrapped his arms hard around her and kissed her as if his life depended on it. Hermione's breath wasn't just taken away – it was seized, tied up, packed in a box and sent to China – she stood immobile for five whole seconds then started kissing him back.

His hands roamed all over her body, the lust desperately obvious, which she returned in kind, nibbling and biting his neck and ears. Within two minutes clothes were being discarded over the floor as Hermione found herself in a position much like an earlier dream – except that he didn't stop. Not then, anyway. Some time later, him down to a pair of nondescript underpants and she practically naked (one stocking really _doesn't_ count), he slowed, hesitated, then looked her in the eye.

"From here, my dear, you are going to have to help me. I'm afraid I don't have much experience in this area."

_Nice__ touch_ she thought, but the supposed innocence of her partner sent her even further into a red haze of lust, and the next little while was a muddle of legs and hands and fire and a deep screaming frenzy that built in both of them until it came to a wild and passionate climax.

Much later they were curled up around each other, still panting and sweaty but starting to come down to relative normality. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the nose, and she wrapped her arms around him and smiled.

"I suppose", he murmured, "we don't really have enough time to try that again. I think my technique needs refining."

"Not tonight, I shouldn't think." Hermione nuzzled his shoulder and bit playfully on his neck as the clock in the nearby church chimed a quarter past the hour.

She stopped. "That can't be right."

"What can't?" He nibbled down her throat, heading for the hollow where her breasts started to swell.

"It can't only be a quarter past seven. I heard the half-past chime go just as you …"

He pulled back and looked with shock and horror into her eyes. "_HERMIONE?_"

"Oh sweet Merlin – _Severus_ – is that the real you?"

"As real as you." He scrabbled out of the bed, a pillow clutched at a strategic level. Hermione sat up, the sheets falling to her waist as she held her head in her hands and tried to make some sense of it all. Finally something else clicked into place.

"So you … all this time .. every Saturday night …"

"Saturday nights I spend my time as befits an adult, in private. And now you've deliberately invaded … " He reached for his robes, still trying to hold the pillow as he shook them out. Hermione reached the logical conclusion and climbed out of bed, wrapping the counterpane around her. She walked up to Severus, who backed up to the wall. Eventually he couldn't go any further, and he looked in horror as she approached, but then she gently took his hand in hers.

"Am I right in assuming, Severus, that you spent the previous two Saturday nights with a simulacrum of myself because you were afraid to ask the real me to join you? Were you afraid I would say 'no'? Or was it easier practice before the real thing?"

"Do you honestly mean to tell me", he spat out, unable to meet her eyes, "that you had no idea that this is what I was doing?"

"See for yourself, Severus. Look into my mind and tell me what you see there."

He wouldn't look, so she held his face in her hands much the same way as he had held hers less than a week before, and kissed him gently, her eyes open, the counterpane falling unnoticed between them. He drew back a little as she finished, and looked, searching – not reading inside her mind but searching her face for the truth.

"You were …"

"I was looking for you, Severus. I wanted you, and only you, and I didn't think you wanted me the same way. So I came here to see if this was truly what I needed."

"And was it?"

"I didn't know until tonight, but now I'm certain that it is." And she kissed him again.

This time the passion rose for both of them as he took her in his arms and gently kissed her as if she was sweet and precious to him, as indeed she was. Severus ran his hands though her hair and over her back, and Hermione indulged in her long-held fantasy to run _her_ hands through his thick locks, and to kiss him as if she would never let him go. Their joining this time was not the fiery passion that came of suppressed desires and limited times and needs that might not truly be met. This time it was the wild heat of two souls who have finally admitted to the other that this, without a doubt, was what they wanted.

Afterwards, curled up in each other's arms, Hermione ran her fingers up his arm and across his shoulder, noticing the scars and lines of age and pain still present after all those years.

"Severus?"

"Hmmm?"

"I found out something about your mystery rescuer."

He half-sat up and looked down at her. "How? Who else knew?"

She flinched, realising she was close to betraying a confidence. "I'm not at liberty to say, but I can tell you that it was almost certainly a man, fully grown." A sudden horrid thought went though her, and she sat up and caught him by the shoulders. "And whatever you do, if it was you – don't do it. I don't care if it causes a time paradox or a rift in space or whatever – I couldn't bear it if it was you."

He took her hands and enclosed them in his own, long, agile fingers, kissing each finger of hers in turn. "No, I don't think it was me. I'd like to think I would have recognised myself. But whoever it is, they're going to do it, whether they've changed their minds now or not. Time has a habit of happening, no matter what, and events in the future that affect events in the past _will_ occur."

She leaned over and kissed him once more. "We should return. I'm only supposed to be out for the evening, and I'm sure you're under the same restrictions."

Their walk back to the Leaky Cauldron was eternally long yet also too short. The concierge at the Hotel gave them a knowing look which both of them chose to ignore. The streets, although wet, were fairy-lit lanes of wonder. They talked of everything and nothing, and the puddles gleamed up rainbows that soaked their shoes unheeded.

"How did you get _my_ hairs, Severus?"

"You left your hairbrush in the staffroom one day, right next to a pile of those stupid leaflets. Did you know I've been using the advertisements to wrap little portions of ingredients?"

"Like salt for your boiled eggs at a picnic? I'd like to go on a picnic with you, Severus."

"And I you. But not until the weather is better."

"Or we could go and visit my parents in Australia. It's warm enough there."

"Australia." He stopped and looked at her, concern in his eyes. "The only other person at Hogwarts who has received something from Australia is Longbottom. And that South African envelope was in the staff room waste paper bin."

"I don't believe it – _Neville_? What would _he_ be wanting – oh."

Severus looked at her curiously as she grabbed his hand and held it hard. "Severus, what is the antidote to Nagini's poison?"

"Phoenix tears, unicorn bezoar and the calyx of a white-centred lupin crushed together in the light of a new moon."

"Which is tonight. Did you ever tell Neville that?:

"I did. He asked me when school started. And unicorn bezoar was one of the ingredients stolen from my storeroom last week."

She clutched his hands so tightly the bruises would show the next morning. "And what would happen if you took the antidote _before_ the poison hit, instead of afterwards? Would it work? Would you be safe if you took the antidote too early?"

"I doubt it. Without the poison to work on, the antidote would begin to dissipate. You might get a slowing effect, but eventually it would catch up to you."

"As in years later?"

"Possibly."

"Is that what's wrong with Neville? His arm so withered and the skin wasting, and he looks so haggard all the time."

"I didn't know. I've been supplying him with painkillers for the last three years, but he said it was for headaches. If I'd known that it was Nagini's poison – he never told me. And he _has_ been asking me for a stronger mix lately." Severus stopped and put his head in his hands. "Oh Merlin no – if he still has the poison in him, then the painkiller would have made things _worse._ Shortening his life. Draining his energy."

"Severus – _RUN_!" And she took his arm and dragged him pell-mell through the streets of London to the Leaky Cauldron where they burst through the door to see Hannah standing in the middle of the taproom, crying.


	10. Chapter 10

"Hannah?" Hermione checked her flight and walked up to the witch, who was holding a letter in her hand. "Hannah? Where is Neville?"

Wordlessly Hannah passed over the parchment. It was written in a small, cramped hand that used many different mixes of ink – a sign, they realised later, of him stopping then restarting each time the pain got too bad.

"How long ago did he leave, Hannah?" Severus's voice was uncharacteristically gentle and seemed to penetrate her misery.

"He went through the floo at ten, and I found the letter shortly after." The clock on the mantle struck half-past and Hermione turned to Severus.

"We might still be in time to stop him if we go now. " She grabbed his hand again as if to drag him into the floo, but he held his ground and handed her the letter.

"We can't stop him, Hermione. He will have gone now, back the the final battle. He'll be giving his younger self the antidote, and telling him about the sword, then coming to save me. And then …"

"And then returning to the current day , to die within minutes. And there is no antidote, no cure, no way to stop this." Hermione looked at Hannah. "But if he hadn't, the final battle would have probably been lost."

"I don't care – I'm going to find him." Hannah grabbed a cloak off a peg behind her. She went to the fireplace, took a handful of floo powder from the box on the top, then turned back to look at the Professors. "Coming?" And she threw the powder in and said in a clear, strong voice "Hogwarts – Neville Longbottom's room."

The three reassembled in Neville's room scant seconds later. The fire was blazing merrily, and Daisy stood wringing her hands, pleased that her Mistress had returned in time. A scorched outline on the fireside rug showed where he would return – if he did.

"If you please, Mistress, Professor Longbottom said to tell you the exact moment that he left, which was fourteen past ten, and that you is not to wait for him." She bent her head, fighting the usual compulsion of house-elves to follow orders, then looked up again with tears in her eyes. "Daisy is thinking, Mistress, that the Professor was not telling the truth. Daisy thinks that the Professor would be very glad of having someone here when he gets back."

"And we will, Daisy. Would you please fetch the Headmistress and Madam Pomfrey urgently?" Daisy left in a *pop* of disapparation, glad to be doing something, and Hermione looked at the clock. "If my calculations last week were correct, we have seventeen minutes to wait." She went to rub her eyes and realised she was still holding the letter in her hand. Holding it close to see the tiny writing, she read it out aloud.

_Dearest Hannah,_

_The last twenty-one years have been the most wonderful years of my life, and I owe them all to you. But you've seen the amount of pain I'm in, and it's only getting worse. I have worked out how to go back, but it will be the last thing I ever do. So I've waited until I was sure there was no cure, sure there was no other way. It hurts me more than I can say to leave you and our child, but if I don't go, none of this would have happened. _

_Please give my love to Hermione, my thanks for the last few years of pain relief to Severus, and as a last favour, if you truly love me, please do not name our child after me. It will have enough to deal with in its life without having to live with the name Neville._

_I love you. I adore you. I will always be with you._

_Your loving husband_

_Neville Longbottom._

Hannah was weeping silently, and Severus was staring intently at a picture of the couple on the mantelpiece. Madam Pomfrey and Minerva, who had come in in the middle of the letter, looked at Hermione.

"The _Chronologous__ Charm_."

"Sweet Merlin, no." Minerva sank into a chair.

"He was dying anyway." Severus spoke up. "He was hiding the after-effects of Nagini's poison, and I had been giving him pain potions for what I thought were headaches. But I realise now that he probably didn't have long to live – maybe not even until Christmas. And nothing would have stopped that. But I never thought he would do such a foolish thing."

"Nor such a wise one." Hannah dried her eyes. "I've watched him fade in front of me, and it's almost killed me not to be able to do anything. But Christmas? So soon? So he never would have seen …" She shook her head, walked over to Severus and took his hand. "But thank you for what you've been doing for him. And if he has to go, I'm glad he's gone on his own time."

"Not quite yet", Minerva warned. "Move away from the rug – I think he's coming back."

There was a crack, like that which accompanied an Apparition spell, but somehow echoing through their souls. A bright blue crackling glow filled the outline by the fire, and coalesced into a shape barely recognisable as Neville. Severus held Hermione to him as Hannah dropped to her knees beside her husband, Madam Pomfrey on the other side to try and do something – _anything__ – _to halt the final withering.

Neville's skin was flaking off and his eyes dimming, but he looked at Hannah as if to cement the last glimpse of her.

"All done?" Hannah asked softly.

"All done" he replied through cracked lips, and she leaned over and kissed him softly, gently.

"Go then, my love. Go in peace."

"I love you too." And his eyes fixed and they all felt the sighing of his soul as it left his collapsing body. Madam Pomfrey looked up at Minerva in despair, but Minerva took a blanket from the bed and laid it over Neville's body, now literally falling apart. She muttered a low spell over it as she tucked the edges in, then looked at Hannah who had laid the drying bones and skin that was his arm back over his chest.

"Stasis spell. Just to hold things together."

"Thank you, Minerva." Hannah kissed the blanket over the head one more time, and whispered to it "Go, my love. I'll never forget you. And I'll not hurry after you, but I'll follow you just the same."

She rose and faced them all. Hermione walked over and hugged her hard.

"Stay the night here, Hannah. Go back in the morning."

Hannah kissed her friend on the cheek. "No, but thank you. I need to go back, be at home. I'll be back tomorrow to pick up his things."

"And I'll be here when you need help."

"Thank you, my friend. Dinner tomorrow night?"

"This time I'll bring the food." Hermione hugged her again, and Hannah took the floo powder and headed out.

Madam Pomfrey gathered them all up and usered them out the door. "Leave the rest to me. I'll give him the care he needs now."

Severus, Hermione and Minerva stood in the corridor, Hermione not sure what she should do.

"A sad night, Hermione." Minerva was weeping, all the mourning she had held back for Hannah's sake now tumbling out.

"But not a wasted one. And it mustn't be." Severus scowled. "No more silence. If he had spoken up about what was really wrong with him, I might have helped. Or given him a but longer before he went back to save me. And I didn't get a chance to thank him."

Minerva looked at both of them. "But it's not the time nor the place to discuss this. Bed, both of you." She shooed them off then walked back into Neville's room, shoulders bowed under the sorrow of the night.

Hermione and Severus turned as one, then looked at each other.

"We need to talk", said Severus.

"Tomorrow. Tonight we need to sleep on it. Together, if you'd like."

"I'd like that very much", he replied. ""Tonight I don't want to be alone."

"And neither do I."

And together they walked back to her room, taking advantage of the empty corridors and quietly discussing how in Merlin's name they would manage from here. But such mundane things could really wait until tomorrow. Tonight there would be warmth and comfort and someone to keep away the darkness.


End file.
